


Be Here, Eyes Closed

by Neffectual



Series: From An In-Ring Perspective [20]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Longing, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neffectual/pseuds/Neffectual
Summary: Dean's been missing his lovers for too long, alone on the blue brand. He needs this.





	

It’s so familiar that it’s like breathing, his fingers twined in two sets of long, thick hair, tangling in curls and snarls, nails scratching at scalps and hearing the twinned, pleased noises he gets in response. Dean’s own eyes are closed in pleasure, one hot mouth at the hollow of his throat as another presses kisses at the waistband of his jeans, fingers fumbling with the button fly in a clumsiness he knows so well. He’s been aching for this, so long without it, the blue roster suddenly lonely without the heat of his two partners, his brothers at his side, at his back, ready to give him everything he needs, whether that be in the ring or out of it.

With his eyes closed, it’s easy to catalogue all the feelings he’s been missing out of, and there’s a flash of hurt when he thinks of the two of them without him, but he pushes it away, because that’s not what’s happening now. He has his boys, he has two sets of hands roaming his body, two eager mouths pushing kisses into his skin like they can brand themselves to his body, as if they can make everyone see who he belongs to. He wonders if they can’t see it anyway, the way he leans towards them whenever they’re in the same ring, the way he chases their touch even as he’s supposed to fighting against them. He’s never been able to hide what’s happening on his face, an open book every time, and he supposes everyone must know how he feels about Seth and Roman, how their bodies and his are supposed to be entwined for all time, that their hands are there, forever, a three-way fist bump that means so much more than just a coalition of three individual factions.

There’s a tug to his hair, bringing him back to the bed, to the two men with him, nimble fingers divesting him of clothing as easily as they always have, soothing the skin revealed with one set of warm hands and one set slightly chilly, making him arch away from one touch and towards another. They’ve always been like this, he’s always surged from one to the other, and now, having them both with him, being between them, being touched… he wants to frame the moment forever and never move on. When a hot mouth swallows him down, another swallows his moans with kisses, and he’d open his eyes, but they’re screwed up tight against the pleasure, and besides, he knows them so well in these positions that he barely needs to look anymore. He knows it will be Seth with a cock in his mouth, eager and slutty, willing to choke himself in his desperation to give his partner pleasure, and Roman at his mouth, plush lips unchapped and a soothing hand in Dean’s hair to keep him still and steady while Seth works him over.

It feels like they’ve been apart for a million years, and yet also no time at all, like he’s been craving their hands for his entire life, but also like they’ve only been apart for seconds. It’s hardest when they’re close, when they’re within touching distance, or a quick dash from one hotel to another, a covert trip across state lines and he could be with them, tumbled into their bed like nothing ever came between them, like Seth never left, like Roman never forgot about him. In these moments, with his two boys taking him apart so carefully, it’s as if they’ve always been together, and always will, like there’s some truth to star-crossed lovers, or fate. Dean’s been around too long to believe in that shit, but like this, it’s almost close enough to perfect that he could maybe concede it’s a possibility.

Seth kisses a line up his body, Roman moving from his mouth, and Dean can taste himself on Seth’s mouth, a testament to how much he needs this, every breath a soft prayer for the two of them to give him more, give him everything. Roman’s finger pressing into him, slick with warmed lube, is a welcome pressure, something else to think about, something other than the overwhelming he love he feels for both of them, the way his heart is in pieces unless the three of them are together like this. Roman always knows how to drag sounds out of him, and Dean bites back curses and half-formed sobs of desperation as Seth’s mouth leaves his and there’s the familiar low groan of him slipping fingers into himself, a noise Dean can recognise even with his eyes shut against the pleasure of Roman’s hands, one around his cock and the other with two fingers inside him, pressing unerringly on his prostate. It’s almost too much, and he bites off a cry as Roman’s hand suddenly squeezes the base of his dick, keeping him from coming.

Seth’s body straddling his shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is, the solid weight of him, Roman holding Dean’s dick steady so Seth can slide down easily, the slick glide doing nothing to detract from how tight he is, how hot he feels inside. Seth’s braces his hands on Dean’s shoulders, leaning forward, and Roman’s fingers withdraw, to be replaced with a bigger, blunter pressure that Dean relaxes into, easy, simple, something he’ll never forget how to do, how to give in to Roman, how to give everything to Seth, how to come apart and be remade between them, how to chase his own pleasure before theirs, to know they want him to fall apart, that they want to ruin him. His breathing is ragged as Seth rides him and Roman fills him, the way their bodies are so close to his after all these miles away, after all the time and space between them. It feels right, to be together again.

When they come, it’s a chain reaction, Dean first, spilling inside of Seth with a cry that takes his lungful of air with it and leaves him gasping as Seth tightens around him, splashing hot wetness onto his chest. Roman is the last of them, pressing deep inside of Dean and jolting as he comes, his hand stroking Dean’s thigh desperately, as if that’s what finally sends him over the edge. They lie like that for a moment, the three of them breathing in sync, Dean’s eyes rolled back in his skull but he knows their chests must rise and fall in the same rhythm, the way their hearts beat to the same time. Roman withdraws, pressing a kiss to Dean’s thigh, and then the bed moves as he leaves, probably to get a cloth, because, well, that’s Roman. Seth rolls off him and flops on the mattress next to Dean’s exhausted body, pressing tiny kisses to his shoulder until the bed dips again, signalling that Roman is back, and there’s the tell-tale rough press of a damp washcloth against him, swiping at still-sensitive skin and making him hiss and mutter complaints under his breath, making Seth’s mouth curve up where it’s pressed against him.

Finally, a hand smooths over his brow, when the last traces of sticky semen have been wiped away and the sheets pulled up over three bodies, Dean in the middle, kept warm and close and safe where he lies, and he opens his eyes slowly against the glare of the bedside light, wincing as the brightness stings a little. When the aura of light has faded, and he can see the room, Dean wishes he’d kept them closed, instead. Jimmy and Jey look back at him, one twin on each side, and Dean has to take a long, slow breath to keep from it coming out in a ragged sob. These aren’t his boys. These aren’t his brothers. And as convincing as he can make them, eyes tight shut and memory playing out like a movie reel, they’re not a good enough substitute. Dean shivers, and pulls the sheets higher, tucking them around his shoulders – the bed should feel overly hot, with three grown men in it, but for Dean, the ice has settled deep in his heart, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever feel warm again.


End file.
